


To Sleep, Perchance to... Sleep

by overwhelmingly_awesome



Series: Prompts and Prompts and Prompts [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Learns How to Sleep, Cozy, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Sleepy Crowley (Good Omens), Sleepy Cuddles, This is just soft and indulgent i dont know what to tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overwhelmingly_awesome/pseuds/overwhelmingly_awesome
Summary: Aziraphale had never been fond of sleeping. However, he's willing to give it another shot, as long as there's a certain demon beside him.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Prompts and Prompts and Prompts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750039
Comments: 4
Kudos: 100





	To Sleep, Perchance to... Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a prompt series, that I'm using to make sure I write something every day, and learn how to post ficlets on Tumblr. This isn't by any means my best work, but I'm just trying to shake off the old writer's block, and these prompts seem to be doing the trick!
> 
> This is prompt #1: Aziraphale can't sleep without Crowley by their side. 
> 
> I've found all of these prompts on this lovely generator here: https://prompts.neocities.org/
> 
> I've got 88 of these in a document, and we'll see how far I get.

Sleep wasn't something that came naturally to Aziraphale. 

He'd only attempted it a handful of times prior to Armageddon, and hadn't had any success to speak of. He'd find a comfortable spot to lie down, on a bed in an inn, the sofa in the back room of the bookshop, or on one memorable occasion, the back of a carriage, and try his best to clear his mind, only to find himself unable to manage the very simple act of sleeping. 

This wasn't to say he never got tired - far from it actually. His body still felt exhaustion after a long day of activity, or after any sort of extremely strenuous action, but in order to regain his strength, he simply needed a strong cup of tea and a few hours with a good book before he'd be ready to face a new day. 

Sleeping felt rather like a robot plugging into a socket to recharge. If the robot would never run out of energy, why would you take time out of the day to charge it?

Sleeping took rather a large chunk out of one's available time, and if it wasn't necessary, and wasn't something easily accomplished, there seemed to be no point in trying. 

Crowley, of course, had a differing opinion. He too had no need for sleep, but the demon enjoyed it, and had gotten used to it over the years. When his corporation had been in use for more than a day or so, he'd find himself yawning and tiring much like a normal human, before curling up practically anywhere to take a nap. He was similar to a cat in that regard, or perhaps a snake, in his ability to contort himself into whatever the space required to fold in on himself and drift off to sleep, regardless of how uncomfortable it appeared to those around him. 

Crowley's fondness for the activity encouraged Aziraphale to continue in his attempts to sleep, though they remained fruitless endeavors. Despite his ability to sit down and read for hours on end, or his penchant absorbing himself entirely into research or anything similar, he found himself to be completely incapable of lying still and relaxing long enough to settle his body into the lull of unconsciousness. He'd fiddle with whatever useless sleepwear he'd gathered for the occasion, think endlessly on a topic he'd discussed with a certain redheaded demon, or simply lay there fretting about his inability to fall asleep until he crawled out of bed to grab a book. 

After one particularly long night of attempting to sleep, somewhere in the 60s, Aziraphale decided plainly that sleeping wasn't for him, and that he'd continue to spend his time however he saw fit during the evening hours, until the world stirred again once more as the sun rose. 

It wasn't until after Armageddon, decades after his last disappointing attempt, that he returned atop a mattress at all. 

They'd enjoyed dinner at the Ritz, and had returned back to the demon's flat to continue enjoying good wine, comfortable chairs, and each other's company. Aziraphale had initially proposed a swift return to the bookshop, but noticed the slight stiffening in the demon's normally fluid spine at the offer. Though Aziraphale knew better than to mention it, he'd noticed how Crowley had been avoiding the bookshop since their Armageddon escapades. It seemed, to the demon, that the smell of books and old parchment blended too easily with the smell of smoke. 

Aziraphale understood. Acknowledging his own discomfort of separating from Crowley's side (leaving him vulnerable to the plots of their former head offices) he offered that they could instead return to the demon's flat, and crack open a bottle of something that he'd hidden away for a rainy day. 

Comforted slightly, Crowley had eagerly agreed. 

After only a couple glasses of wine each, they'd slowed their conversation to warm silence, nestled up against each other on the demon's sofa. Since the airbase, they'd discussed (or confessed, technically, but that always sounded more sordid than the way that it had really happened, with a gently held hand and a soft whisper through lips that had already nestled themselves against a soft curve of a neck) their feelings for one another, and had finally embraced not as hereditary enemies, but as lovers. This meant that Crowley had become infinitely more liberal with his affections, draping himself across the angel's lap as they shared a dreadfully modern couch. 

Crowley had stilled his endless fidgeting, instead opting to rest his head against Aziraphale's thighs, as gentle fingers combed through his hair. His eyelids had closed rather charmingly, his dark eyelashes flickering across sharp cheekbones, and his breath had slowed to a constant glacial rise and fall of his chest.

Watching intently as lovely lips parted softly, Aziraphale realized that he was watching his companion drift off to sleep, and felt his heart warm desperately inside his chest. 

" _Crowley,_ " he breathed as quietly as possible, to keep from startling the demon. "Would you rather we retired to bed?" 

Drifting up to meet his companion's lips, Crowley hummed an affirmation. Instead of plucking himself off of the couch, he simply wrapped his arms around the angel's neck, and tucked his legs over to one side of Aziraphale's thighs. 

The angel chuckled. "Do you want me to carry you?" He asked, already sliding his arm under two long legs, and a serpentine back. 

"Of course, angel. What's the point of all that angelic strength if you're not going to put it to good use?" 

Aziraphale could hardly deny such sound logic. 

Lifting the demon to his bedroom, Aziraphale settled Crowley down across the mattress. With a lazy snap of his fingers, the demon dressed himself down to his underclothes, and to Aziraphale's surprise, did the same for him. 

As if his body was controlled by another, he drifted to the other side of the bed, and tucked himself in beside his demon. Crowley quickly draped himself over Aziraphale's chest, and hitched a lean thigh over the angel's legs, effectively trapping him beneath his lanky form. 

Aziraphale curled an arm around the demon's back to pull him in closer, and relished the feeling of Crowley's heartbeat against his chest. He was so _gentle_ like this, so calm and vulnerable. He traced each line of the demon's form he could reach with a slow pass of his fingers, feeling the sloping planes of his sides, the lean stretch of his arms, and the soft curve of his neck. Before more than five minutes had passed, Crowley had fallen fast asleep. 

Aziraphale pulled a blanket over both of them with a quick miracle, and finally felt the tension that had ruptured up from his ankles to his neck slowly dissipate, as he settled into the give of the mattress. 

As if he'd never felt it before, his bones seemed to weigh down his body like an anvil in an old cartoon. Aziraphale realized that even if the demon's comfortable weight hadn't been on top of him, he would have felt pinned to the mattress, unable to do much more than lean back, and close his eyes that had suddenly grown quite dry. 

Perhaps he'd give one more attempt at this sleeping business. After all, he'd never exerted himself as intensely as he had in the last few days, and he certainly couldn't get up and disturb the quiet creature atop him.

He found himself stretching his weary feet, and releasing a stifled yawn. 

As he felt the warm press of Crowley's body against his, he slowly let his mind drain itself of thoughts, all noises beyond his and his lover's breathing fading away into nothingness.

After a few moments of silence, Aziraphale finally drifted off to sleep, dreaming of running his fingers through fiery red hair, and picnics. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come hang out with my on tumblr, @ writing-mostly-probably! 
> 
> And hey, if you have any prompts that make you go "hmm, I wish someone would write with with the ineffable husbands", comment it here or on my tumblr, and I'll put it on my list!


End file.
